


take me or leave me

by lizwillstealyourgirl



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ensemble Cast, Homophobia, M/M, Racism, Slurs, Spierfeld Week, i suppose it’s not unhappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwillstealyourgirl/pseuds/lizwillstealyourgirl
Summary: simon and abraham shared a bubble too strong to be popped by the world.(ensemble day of spierfeld week)





	take me or leave me

**Author's Note:**

> this took me too long and it’s not my best work but some warnings  
> WARNING THIS INCLUDES  
> slurs (F slur, H word for Jewish people, and the N word, though i didn’t write that one out)  
> a swastika, because fascism  
> some swearing  
> mentions of violence because i was too lazy to write that bit

since day one, bram and simon knew how they felt.

despite the stuffy and judgmental air of georgia, simon held bram’s hand under the tables and in the dark. two kids, children, who deserved better than what the humidity and hostility of the south could ever give them. bram and simon, two boys, who loved each other so deeply that they could never be anything but proud, even if they were discrete and hidden, in the shadows of empty corridors and alleyways. they’d known, since the day simon clicked send onto his stupid little email, that they were those boys. _bram and simon_ became _bramandsimon_ and soon, something a little bit different than two but a little bit different than one.

even with all that strength and pride, georgia’s tendencies towards queer people stuck out like a sore thumb wherever they went. should they brush their shoulders or turn their heads towards each other and smile, outside of their little bubble was laughter and whispers. their bubble grew thicker and meaner and stronger with every passing glance from strangers who judged far too quickly, and soon it was too strong to pop. too strong, even with the help of harassment no one had ever expected in the twenty first century.

it was worse than the ethan incident, an incident that simon is eternally grateful bram never had to witness. it was maybe even worse than the martin incident, which simon had moved on from, but the apparent grudge holder that is bram was yet to forgive or forget. it was truly the most shitty and despicable thing in the whole world.

_‘fag‘_ was written in bold, red paint across not only simon’s locker, but his friends’. abby, leah, nick, and even garrett adorned the ugly word in ugly writing - but this word isn’t what drove simon into the pit of fire. it was abraham’s locker.

the swastika on bram’s was too bright and too bold and too disgusting to be erased, and it was too little and too late when simon saw it. bram had been absolutely enraged when he saw their friends’ lockers, and rightfully so, he turned to see his locker. before his head even turned, simon noticed it, and he grabbed bram’s shoulders a little too tight, and turned him away from it.

“what?” bram said, scanning simon’s face for something more than what he was giving him.

“i...” simon got stuck on his words, tongue tied for too many wrong reasons. the things he found in his head were all angry or untrue. “i don’t want to you see it.” he decided to be honest, “it’s not good.”

“i’ve already seen it on five other lockers today, si.” simon shook his head, and bram raised a brow. “is it different?” simon nodded, but his mouth refused to open, and his hands fell numb and weak enough for bram to turn and face it.

simon, too awestruck in the worst way, didn’t notice the words below it until bram read them aloud. “get out of my school-“ he choked up before he could finish.

garrett, ever the white knight, rushed in with a stupid etsy sticker for water bottles, and covered that disgusting and _badbadbad_ word that simon had wished would’ve never been written, said or sung. bram didn’t say a word at school that day, and only left simon’s side to hug nick and abby in a huddle that cried out in a way simon would never have to.

mr. worth saw the lockers before second period reached its halfway mark. he called all six of them into his office and promised he would find the kids - ms. albright had called them _‘bigoted assholes’_ , which simon felt was significantly more accurate - who had done it. simon wondered if anyone else noticed that, next to the gay flag pin that mr. worth was yet to remove, there was a pin for black lives matter, too.

simon and bram found themselves in the backyard that evening, after school. simon stood behind bram while he weaved a soccer ball through a maze simon couldn’t see.

after the silence and tension rose to simon’s breaking point, simon whispered, “abraham?”

bram’s shoulders softened immediately, and he turned to his boyfriend with furrowed brows and a gentle frown. “are you okay?”

simon nodded. “are you?” he finally asked.

bram sucked in his bottom lip and chewed, a nervous tick that simon noticed on the ferris wheel. he shrugged. “i’m angry,” he admitted, “and i know you don’t get it, which, in a weird way, makes me angrier.”

“why?” simon asked softly.

“i don’t know.” he sighed, “i suppose it’s because you’re my guy, and this is that one thing that i don’t believe we could ever understand in the same way.”

“besides soccer?” simon offered.

bram looked at him blank for a moment, before his shoulders fell in this finally sort of way, and he smiled so sad but so real. “you do suck at soccer.”

“this is true.” simon stuck out his right hand for bram’s left. “you’re my guy, too. i’m sorry i don’t get it. i’m sorry you do.” he pulled bram into a hug that was tight and sore and _crazy brave_. “but this isn’t the only thing i won’t understand in the same way. there’s soccer too, but there’s a ton of other stuff. i won’t get being a nerd, or divorced parents, or why you wear flip flops sometimes in january.” bram laughed against simon’s neck.

“i won’t get the studying or the AP classes or the social anxiety. i won’t get the early mornings or the late nights. and i know it’s not the same, or anything like it, but i just know that there are always things we won’t understand about each other. that doesn’t have to mean anything, though.”

bram, without pulling away, swayed on his two feet, back and forth, with his fingers curling in on simon’s shirt. simon ignored the wetness he felt on his collarbones, just like how bram ignored the drops that fell onto the base of his neck.

bram laughed wetly. “i’m sorry,” he shook his head.

“shut up,” simon replied, in a sweetly forceful kind of way. “don’t be.”

“okay,” bram whispered, and they didn’t let go for hours out there, even as the sun went down and the air dropped into somewhere too cold, even as they lost feeling in their toes and fingers and noses and even as their breath was so bright in the cold that it practically changed colors. they didn’t let go.

  
days passed without word from mr. worth about who had vandalized the lockers. regardless, some teachers presented about how anti semitic remarks and such are hurtful; it wasn’t enough, it’s more than hurtful, but bram and simon took only what they could get.

eight days after, though, when mr. worth had been yet to call them in, it appeared that the students had gotten away with it. perhaps their stealth had inspired them, or maybe just boredom, but bram and simon were harassed again, though this time much more personally.

it was the first game of soccer season, and bram had upgraded his status to starting striker. the game was filled with an extensive and exhausting amount of ridiculous plays and yellow cards and shouting and aggression. and, much to bram’s disadvantage, any time he looked to his friends, simon was there, unfazed by the noise, in the jersey that garrett had gotten him for his birthday.

the name, instead of greenfeld, was _bluegreen_ , and the number was _118_. it was designed to look exactly like the teams’ anyway; sometimes bram wondered if coach had helped garrett pull it all off. if the jersey wasn’t distracting enough, simon had looked so kind and proud and fond that bram couldn’t help forget all of the anger and stress he’d had about the game and their recent time at school. just bram’s luck, that after the game, everything went to shit.

they were in the locker room, the six of them, and alone except for each other. bram and nick had changed out of their uniforms and opted to shower at home, but garrett had decided he needed to shower there. the others all sat in a circle, on the floor, near the exit, and played little, childish games, which abby had acquired from her girl scout years.

just as garrett was getting dressed, post shower, the door swung open, to reveal three guys from the soccer team. bram and nick both smiled politely, nick reaching up to give all of them high fives, and the others all waved. they each declined nick’s high five, and replaced it with a middle finger.

“what’s up, man?” nick asked the tallest one, jacob, standing to look him in the eye. jacob responded by pushing nick and walking past him. the other two just followed.

“what the hell?” nick laughed with a bitter taste in his mouth, “did you see that?” he turned to bram.

bram nodded and shrugged. simon answered for him, “that was weird.”

leah rolled her eyes, and, ever the cynic, smiled. “maybe you pissed him off because you’re a ball hog.” bram, abby, and even nick laughed.

just then, garrett turned the corner, bounding up to them with a grin. “i finished!” the others cheered, only a little sarcastically. “waffle house?”

“waho! waho! waho!” abby cheered, leah laughing at her side. simon clapped along, standing with the help of bram.

“of course the fags all go on a date together,” followed by, “maybe they all have an orgy planned for after!” sounded out behind the lockers.

bram swallowed abruptly and garrett whipped his head to see the source of the slurs. nick and abby began to strut over past them all, but just as simon stopped them, the three players came around anyway.

“what do you want now?” nick sighed. it was getting late, and soon, simon worried, they wouldn’t even be able to go, due to their curfews. he figured that was why nick was so snappy with the players, because he was antsy too.

“just wanted to see what the fags have planned for tonight?” one of the three replied, steven. “tell me, _heeb_ ,” he turned to bram, who raised a brow, “which white boy will you be fucking tonight?”

bram pursed his lips and didn’t reply. simon and garrett both took a step closer to bram anyway.

“go away, assholes,” leah said, “the bigotry is getting old.” abby crossed her arms and nodded defiantly.

the third one, david, said, “whatever, _fag hag_.” leah scoffed at that just as much as simon did.

“honestly, this is boring now,” abby shrugged, “first the lockers and now this? when will people come up with something new?” she joked, and even though simon cracked a smile, he knew he would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the three, extremely fit and very angry men standing before him.

“yeah, we’re not the most creative three,” david said, admitting to the lockers in the least honest sort of way. “but we sure can pack a punch.” no laughter followed his joke, except for the bloodcurdling grins of his crew.

“let’s go, please,” simon said to bram and garrett, quietly enough so only they could hear. both of them nodded, and simon saw something flash in the eyes of the men in front of him.

“scared, spier?”

_terrified,_ simon wanted to say. _mortified, traumatized, absolutely scared shitless._

instead, he shook his head, “nope.”

the guys laughed, and all five of simon’s friends stepped in front of him, like a wall. “let’s go, si.” nick practically growled, and abby curled an elbow into simon’s, and leah smiled up at him.

“no,” steven walked around them and slid an arm up the doorway. “i don’t think you’ll be going anytime soon.”

simon squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for this to end. when he felt bram intertwine their fingers, he realized two things.

_one._ this was something bram and him could both understand in the same sort of way.

_two._ this was never going to end. this was their life. throughout their time together, they would have to hear the nasty slurs and hear the laughter and see the pointing and shake their head and sigh and they would have to ignore it all, because this _thing_ would never end.

  
simon doesn’t remember what happened next - who threw the first punch, who fought back, who tried to hide. he doesn’t remember if bram stood in front of simon or if simon stood in front of bram. he doesn’t remember if nick was doing his weird, laughing thing that he did when he got scared, and he doesn’t remember if leah did it too. he does recall, though, seeing garrett’s arms swinging, and bram‘s arms pushing, and abby’s arms lifting and her middle fingers rising. he doesn’t know all of who did what, but he remembers that much. he doesn’t remember how it ended either, but he can use his investigation skills to deduce that they did _not_ go to waffle house that evening, and that, after it had ended, they did not want to go anyway.

mr. hale, the janitor, found the six of them the next morning, still in the locker room. when simon traced his eyes across the room, he saw four of his friends; some arms looked broken and some chests looked bruised and simon was scared to look at bram to see what had happened to him. he looked down at his own bruises and wondered if he fought back too. simon looked next to him, on either side, and couldn’t see bram. when he tried to get up, mr. hale asked him not to. he said, quietly, “where’s bram?”

garrett reached over, “bram’s going to get the nurse.” simon raised a brow, and at his suspicion, garrett grinned. “i promise.” simon nodded, and laid back down, both out of exhaustion and pain.

garrett and nick had to go to the hospital, in the end. nick had broken his elbow and garrett had too many bruises to be normal. they all went to the hospital, really, just to visit. even bram, who had gone extraordinarily unharmed, joined them. mr. wise, ms. albright, and a few students from school, such as taylor, ethan and their crew, and even martin addison - though, martin did not say hello.

mr. worth came in later, with the police, who took their statements and reaffirmed what mr. worth had said before - we’ll find the people who did this. it didn’t matter that the six of them all knew the names and saw the faces - everyone knew that in their town, nothing would really happen anyway.

simon let that be okay. by mr. worth left, he knew three things.

_one._ this was something he and bram would go through together, and understand together.

_two._ this was never going to end. this was their life together, for every second of it, and when they were apart, it would still be there life. for every second of it.

_and_ _three._ leah, abby, nick and garrett would not understand it, but they would go through it too. they would break an arm or bruise a rib or sprain an ankle or clean a locker for bram and simon, through all of it. simon and bram shared a bubble too brave to be popped, but that bubble was only brave with the nimble fingers and strong hands of their reinforcing friends, who would break too many bones for them, through any and every fight or foe.

and through all of it, simon would never let them go.

**Author's Note:**

> okay i hope that didn’t suck too much! thank you for reading my only fic for spierfeld week because i need like 10 days to write one paragraph 
> 
> hit me up on tumblr - frommywindow11.tumblr.com


End file.
